


Your love is better than wine

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki remembers only few kisses, and all with the same person - a man he once called brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your love is better than wine

There have been many kisses in his long life, different kinds of kisses, and with different partners, but Loki can recall but a few.

All involving the same person – a man he once called brother.

When they were children, Thor was always touching him – hugging him or taking his hand in his own and dragging him on wild runs through the palace and its gardens. He also enjoyed tugging at his hair, and, when he noticed how flustered Loki would get, kissing him – on his cheeks, jaw, nose, forehead. Everywhere.

They were in the garden when it happened, and it happened by chance. They were sitting on the ground, arguing over something when Thor abruptly grew silent. Loki frowned, confused at first, but then his confusion turned into anger when he recognized the mischievous twinkle in Thor’s eyes and the curl of his lips as he leaned forward.

Loki is unsure what made him lean forward that day, instead of jerking back. Was it anger or defiance, he cannot recall, but he can recall placing his hands against his brother’s thin – still thin, they were but children then – shoulders and bringing their mouths together.

It was hardly a kiss, only a press of lips against another lips, both pairs tightly closed. But Thor’s lips were soft and his body rigid where Loki was gripping it, his heartbeat racing for reasons unclear to Loki.

Loki was the first to pull back, satisfied in his small victory, but the sight of Thor’s comically wide eyes quickly turned the bubbling, light feeling of triumph into something cold and heavy in Loki’s chest.

Thor said nothing, he merely blinked slowly – confusion and shock melting into Thor’s usual cocky expression – and rose to his feet, offering his hand to Loki. They have never mentioned it later, but Thor never tried kissing him again.

But the memory remained, like a poisoned thorn wedged inside Loki’s heart, and, back then, Loki did not even understand why something as silly and inconsequential as Thor’s shock at Loki’s kiss could hurt.

***

The second kiss makes Loki cringe in disgust each time he recalls it. It does not happen often – he makes sure of it – but every once and again the memory creeps up on him. Usually at night, when sleep eludes him and thoughts and memories become more difficult to control. 

They were not children then, but they were not men still, and pleasures of the flesh had become only a recent preoccupation for them. Thor – impatient and reckless and insatiable – was the first one to get drunk, to kiss a maiden, and, not long afterward, to bed one. Loki… Loki was not as impatient, content to watch his older brother suddenly become almost as thirsty for female companionship as he was for battle and adventures. Thor confided in him, and when Thor would not share details of his pursuits willingly, Loki usually found a way to coax the truth out of him. Mead, mostly, being the key ingredient.

They were young and full of life, they were brothers and friends, and all the realms were there for them to conquer.

Thor was drunk when he stumbled into Loki’s room that night. He woke Loki with barely coherent explanation of mistaking Loki’s room for his, then, promptly, fell across Loki’s bed, falling asleep in a matter of heartbeats.

It all happened fast, and Loki was still drowsy from being roused from sleep, so he had no chance to offer protest, and then it was already too late – Thor was already deep in sleep, and Loki was left with no choice but scowl at his brother’s slumbering form.

Loki did entertain the idea of waking Thor, but it would bring him nothing good. He would be burdened with overly amiable brother in the best case, and in the worst, he would have to drag him to his room. In either case, sleeping Thor was the least of bad options.

Flicking his wrist, Loki conjured up a small globe of light and reached for a book. Out of experience he knew he would not get much sleep with drunken Thor sharing his bed.

After three hours of Thor’s tossing and turning, Loki was ready to drag his brother out of the room or simply push him off the bed. Centuries after, when the memory comes to haunt him, Loki still will have no idea – much as he did not know then – what prompted him to discard his book and turn toward Thor. Was it the soft, content sigh which left Thor’s mouth, misplaced curiosity or something ill and poisonous inside him. Though, it hardly matters now, as it made no importance then. What is important is that Loki, pulled by some irresistible force, allowed his eyes to rest on Thor’s face.

Loki was no stranger to the fact that his brother was beautiful – bronze skin, golden hair framing a face with strong, noble lines, now softened in sleep – but that night, each line of that familiar face seemed somehow different, like Loki was seeing his brother for the first time.

At first, Loki was content to merely gaze upon Thor’s sleeping face, but then, an impulse rose inside him – irrational as much as it was unyielding – and Loki found himself reaching out and tracing the contours of his brother’s face with the pads of his fingers: his forehead, his cheekbone, then trailing the path all the way down to the strong line of his jaw, Loki’s lips curving up at the first bristles of beard he found there.

Face of the future king.

The thought stirred something inside Loki – bitter and cold – but Loki pushed it aside, captivated by his brother’s slightly parted lips. He hesitated a moment, his fingers hovering above Thor’s lips. This was not right; they were brothers and this was very close to invasion of privacy, and Loki could not help but feel as if he was taking something from Thor without having him agree to it. Loki knew all this, but instead of pulling his hand away, he slowly lowered it, until his fingers were brushing against Thor’s lips.

Thor’s lips were soft, and it came as somewhat of a surprise; everything else about Thor’s physique was all but soft, as many of Asgard’s finest have already learned the hard way on the training grounds.

_Soft lips… but how do they taste?_

The question seared through Loki’s mind, making him gasp and pull his hand away as if burned, but it was already too late. The question awakened something – a desperate need Loki was not aware existed inside him, but now, it was all he could think about.

Loki swallowed against the dryness of his throat, and willed his body to move, to get off the bed and far from his sleeping brother and the temptation of his lips. Willed, and failed.

Loki was not Thor. He has been aware of the difference between them for many decades now. Thor was honest and straightforward and honourable, and Loki… Loki was not. Loki cared little for morals and rules, and was long since aware how malleable they were, how power and wealth could bend them into another shape. Neither Thor nor Loki would easily give up on what they desire – but where Thor would shatter any barrier that stood in his way, Loki would find a way to circumvent it.

They were brothers, but they could not have been more different if they were born on different realms. 

Slowly, Loki released a breath he was not aware he was holding, his eyes once again drawn to Thor’s lips, his heartbeat racing both from fear and anticipation. He _could_ sate this hunger that was writhing inside him like ravenous beast. He could do it. No one would ever know. No one needed to know. And what harm could a simple kiss do?

Taking a deep breath, Loki leans forward, his heart beating so fast and so loud, he was sure it would wake entire Asgard. Thor, however remained asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. Loki paused a mere inch above Thor’s lips, biting his lower lip nervously. It was not fear or the sense of forbidden that stilled him. It was the sheer magnitude of want that did it. Loki wanted this, so much his chest felt like it would collapse in on itself from the weight of it.

Loki grimaced, his eyes narrowing as he took in the relaxed, oblivious expression of Thor’s face, fury joining already potent tangle of emotions twisting inside him. And in the end, it was fury – irrational and nonsensical considering the circumstances, but nothing about this entire situation could be called sane – at Thor’s calm indifference that made Loki fist his hands into Thor’s tunic, and lean that remaining inch and lower his mouth on Thor’s.

The kiss was not what Loki expected, if Loki had any expectations to begin with. Thor’s lips were soft and pliant under his, and when he grew bolder, sneaking his tongue past Thor’s parted lips, he could taste mead and something sweeter on his brother’s tongue.

But that taste turned to bile in Loki’s mouth as his reason finally overpowered his sudden, irrational hunger making him see what he was doing. To his own brother.

Releasing his hold on Thor’s tunic, Loki pulled away from Thor’s lips, almost falling off the bed in his haste to get away. He staggered to the wash basin and splashed his face with cold water, his entire body wracked with tremors.

He spent that entire night sitting on the floor and staring at nothing, while his inner demons raged on, carefully avoiding even looking at Thor, who, oblivious to what had transpired, went on sleeping soundly on Loki’s bed.

When Thor awoke the next morning – bleary-eyed and with a grimace signaling a rather nasty headache – Loki had established some measure of control over himself, enough of it to look his brother in the eyes without flinching, determined to bury the incident from previous night in the back of his mind and never think of it again.

And it had worked. For some time.

***

The blame for the third kiss cannot be placed solely on Loki’s shoulders. The majority, yes, but it was Thor who initiated it.

Only… Thor was unaware it had been his brother he was kissing.

To master creating illusions was not all that challenging. And using them proved to be more than satisfying, whether in battle or for sheer amusement value. The look on Thor’s face when he first discovered this new ability of Loki’s has been more than worth the effort. The fight that ensued afterwards, less so. But losing was always a sore subject with his perfect, golden brother.

But to take on another appearance; to shape shift into someone else, that proved more challenging to master.

But – after years of trying and more failures than Loki wishes to admit – he had finally managed to change his appearance. And, now, all that was left was to test the limits of his control.

Frowning, Loki inclined his head to examine his features more closely – long, red hair, pulled back in a loose braid, blue eyes with only hint of green around the pupils, round mouth with full, lower lip. Loki would not call the face staring at him from the mirror beautiful, but not even Loki could deny a certain appeal to it.

Purposely, he made himself look nothing like true self, even if there were similarities between this and his male appearance – in the high cheekbones and long arc of the neck. And the paleness of skin. That he could not alter, no matter his efforts.

Squaring his shoulders, he smothered down the fabric of his dress and smiled at his reflection.

What he intended to do this night was risky and could earn him a public humiliation, but Loki could not muster sufficient amount of worry; his nerve endings sparking with wild rush of excitement. He had already excused himself from the feast and made all the preparations, now all he needed was to see was his magic strong enough to hold this form under the scrutiny of familiar eyes.

With one last look at his appearance, softening the edges of his usual smirk into something demure, Loki turned on his heel and joined the feast.

Loki’s excitement soon wilted into disappointment, and after two hours of parading in front of familiar faces, boredom took place of expected triumph.

No one had recognized him, but no one also bothered to pay him any attention. No one of importance, that is. The few of lower ranking members of Asgard’s nobility who made the mistake of sitting next to Loki thinking him to be easy prey for their questionable charms were soon dissuaded of their intentions by the force of Loki’s glare.

Discouraged, Loki left the feast, but, he did not return to his chambers or his own form. Instead he went out on one of the numerous palace balconies and allowed the cool night’s breeze to soothe his foul mood somewhat.

“You are not from around here, are you?”

Loki almost yelped when the question sounded from behind him, catching himself in the last moment. He still could not change the modulation of his voice. Which, unfortunately, robbed him of his greatest asset – his wit.

Thor, smiling with amusement, exited the shadows – he must have already been there when Loki came; there were no circumstances under which Thor would be able to sneak up on him.

Loki, remembering his role, smiled uncertainly, and bowed low, his heartbeat picking up speed at this opportunity. To catch Fandral’s attention had been the height of his expectations for this night. This… well, he never dared to catch _Thor’s_.

Thor came closer, dressed more casually than during dinner at the fest – sans cloak and his outer ceremonial armour – his head cocked to the side, studying Loki’s face with a mixture of light amusement and curiosity.

“This part of the palace is not usually opened to guests.” Thor said, but there was no reproach in his voice. Only the barest hint of laughter.

Loki schooled his features into an expression of surprised guilt, bowing again as he turned to leave, cursing his own foolishness inwardly. He might not look like the second son of Odin, but he was obviously still thinking as one.

Only, he did not make it far. He was stopped by a gentle grip around his wrist.

When he turned to face Thor, now standing only a step away from him, the surprise on Loki’s face was genuine.

“I did not say it to make you leave.” Thor said, softly, his lips drawn into a smile. “Stay. If that is your wish.”

Loki swallowed, for some reason uncomfortably aware of the warmth of fingers still clasped about his wrist. This was his best chance to prove to himself how strong his control is. After all, who best to test it against if not his own brother?

Loki smiled – hopefully sufficiently demure – and nodded.

Thor frowned. But his fingers remained where they were. “You are free to speak.” He said, looking at Loki with raised eyebrows. “If only I could know your name.”

Loki raised his other hand to his throat, then his lips and shook his head.

The frown on Thor’s face deepened, then softened into something almost sad, as his fingers slipped lower, wrapping around Loki’s. “That is most unfortunate.” He said, and Loki almost ruined everything then, almost jerked his hand out of Thor’s grip. But he managed to control himself, but just barely, when Thor lifted his hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss to the palm of his hand, his eyes staying fixed on Loki’s. “I suppose I will have to contend myself with calling you my lady, then.”

Loki managed a small smile, fairly sure that even if he was not forced into silence, he would not be able to speak past the lump wedged in his throat. Thor was trying to seduce him. He has seen his brother in this role more than once, but now _Loki_ was the object of Thor’s attention, and it had the strangest effect on him.

Loki was aware how much potential for humiliating Thor was in this situation, but the flutter of nervousness in the pit of his stomach and the slight tremble of his fingers, still trapped within Thor’s grip, had nothing to do with the anticipation of the shock on Thor’s face when Loki shifts back, and everything with the flicker of warmth in Thor’s eyes and the gentle way Thor kept caressing Loki’s palm with his thumb.

“Are you here as a part of the delegation from Vanaheim?” Thor asked, finally releasing Loki’s hand.

Both relieved and frustrated at the loss of contact, Loki nodded.

“I am Thor.” His brother said, a hint of his usual cockiness seeping into his voice and smile. “And this is my home.”

Loki could not help himself, he rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of that statement. Even if he were who he was passing as, there was no one present who was not aware of who Thor was.

Thor seemed surprised by Loki’s reaction, making Loki cringe inwardly at his lack of control, sure that he had ruined everything. However, Thor merely burst into laughter – loud, bright and carefree. Just as he was.

“Now I truly regret not having the pleasure of hearing you speak.” He said, sounding amused, even a tad impressed. “I am sure I would enjoy it greatly.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, and smiled, allowing a ghost of his usual smirk to flicker across his face. Thor blinked, then smiled widely, offering his hand to Loki.

“Would you like to see the rest of the palace?”

Loki did not hesitate. He should have. That tiny flutter in his stomach was now a tight knot of excitement, nervousness and something Loki already knew, but was determined to forget. It should have been enough of a warning for him. But the look of hopeful, earnest expectation in Thor’s eyes proved too much a temptation for Loki. He simply accepted Thor’s offered hand and allowed himself to be led.

Thor did not allow Loki’s silence to deter him. He had led Loki through the entire palace, sharing fragments of stories regarding its history. Sharing details of lessons they received when they were younger. Loki was grudgingly impressed. He was sure Thor had slept through most of them.

Loki was not sure how long did the tour through the place last. To him it seemed like seconds, but when Thor led him back to the balcony from where they started, the first rays of the morning sun have stated piercing through the darkness.

“Did you enjoy the tour?” Thor asked, and he almost looked sheepish, as if anyone could have any complaint about being in the company of the Asgard’s golden prince.

A familiar bitter envy twisted around Loki’s heart, and he was glad, immensely glad, he had to act shy and lower his gaze, because he found himself unable to keep the envy out of his eyes.

He nodded, but kept his gaze cast low. Thor chuckled softly, coming to stand in front of Loki, lifting his face with a gentle push of his fingers, forcing Loki to meet his eyes.

“You need not act shy, my Lady.” Thor smiled softly, and Loki suddenly had an irresistible urge to claw that smile from his brother’s face – to make a bloody mess of that perfect face; turn it into something ugly and unlovable. To make Thor more like himself. And perhaps then… perhaps then they could be equal. Perhaps then Thor would be all his.

Loki took a step back, then another, and another, until he moulded with the shadows, hiding his face from view.

He was a fool. A pathetic fool. He wanted to scream, but he could not draw enough breath for it, his chest feeling painfully tight. He had almost forgotten. Almost managed to convince himself that night long ago never happened. But the feeling was inside him still – that poisonous desire to have Thor in any way imaginable – brother, friend, _lover_. Everything, and only his.

Thor’s face drew into a frown of confusion, and he made a hasty step forward. Then, much to Loki’s surprise, he stopped, lifting his hands in a gesture of both appeasement and surrender.

“If your will is to leave, you are free to do so.” Thor said in a low voice, sounding unusually uncertain when he added: “Though, I wish you would stay.”

Leave, Loki’s mind demanded, but the rest of him, demanded the opposite.

When Loki did not leave, but remained in the shadows, Thor’s tense posture relaxed somewhat.

“I know we have never met before. But, for some reason, I feel like I know you.” Thor said, and if those words were a lie, a way to make Loki more agreeable to Thor’s advances, then his brother had a hidden talent for pretense even Loki would admire.

But no, Loki decided. Thor had no such inclination within himself. Which made his words true, and that… that only made everything worse.

Swallowing, Loki clenched his hands into fists, willing his body to move, but his body refused to obey, so he stayed rooted to the spot, even when Thor came to stand in front of him, both their faces now obscured by shadows. But not enough to stop Thor from cradling Loki’s face between his hands and angling it up.

They stayed like that for one long moment, and Loki both cursed and blessed the shadows obscuring Thor’s face.

“Why do you seem so familiar?” Thor whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself. One of his hands sneaked lower, cradling the back of Loki’s neck, and Loki fell deathly still. Only his heart seemed alive – intent on beating its way through Loki’s chest. “Especially your eyes.”

Loki opened his mouth, forgetting he was not allowed to speak, forgetting everything but the soft touch of Thor’s fingers against his face, but whatever the words he meant to say were swallowed by Thor’s mouth.

Other than the barest hint of mead, this kiss held no similarity to that stolen one from centuries ago. Also, it was nothing like Loki would expect of his brother. If he ever spared a thought as to how Thor would kiss, this tentative, gentle brush of lips was not it. He expected fire and passion and show of dominance which would leave him gasping for breath and trembling with need, not this sweet tenderness.

But of course Thor was gentle. He had no idea who he was kissing. In his mind, he was holding someone frail and gentle, and Thor, ever the noble hero, would never consciously bring harm to anyone.

And that realization, realization that Thor’s lips were kissing someone else, his fingers caressing someone else, when Loki wanted Thor to be kissing him – knowingly, willingly – made Loki wrench out of Thor’s embrace and run away.

Thor did not follow him, and for once in his life, Loki was glad of Thor’s noble sentiment. For, had Thor followed him, Loki would not be able to hide himself that night. He was a master of illusions, but even he had his limits, and all that was pushed back and tightly controlled for so long, all his ill-advised and forbidden desires were too close to the surface, surface that was thin as fresh ice, breakable at even the softest touch.

Loki was safely inside his room, trying desperately to rein in his turbulent emotions when he heard Thor’s steps coming down the hall, and to this day Loki cannot tell was the slight hesitation in his brother’s steps when he reached Loki’s room real or merely a wish of Loki’s traitorous heart.

***

The fourth kiss, much as the previous three, was a mistake. But for once, Loki was not alone in its making.

They were on a hunt, just the two of them. Loki did not want to go, but Thor would not take no for an answer that time, no matter how many times Loki declined. So, after three weeks of continuous pestering, Loki realized that indulging Thor would be less tiresome than constantly having to skulk around palace grounds in an attempt to avoid Thor.

The hunt was less than successful, but, as Loki soon realized – Thor never could keep up pretense for long – his brother never had any real interest in the outcome of the hunt. He merely wanted Loki’s company.

Loki wanted to be annoyed at Thor for his deception, if for no other reason than principle alone, but he could not muster sufficient amount of resentment. Loki was the one who they called Silvertongue, and there were but a few Loki could not charm when he set his mind to it, but even Loki had trouble resisting the earnest affection in Thor’s eyes.

Loki enjoyed himself those two weeks. He did not intend to share that fact with Thor, but, judging by Thor’s wide smiles and lack of tension from the first days of the hunt, his brother already knew it.

Loki resented Thor many things, wanted to bash his skull against the nearest flat surface on regular basis, but he has always loved him more than he resented him. He suspected he will always love him more. If not well.

The weather worsened on the eve of the second week of their hunt, and even Thor could not calm it. They found shelter in an abandoned cabin in the wilderness. The roof was filled with holes and the rain poured through them, and Loki was sure that it was only matter of moments before the wind brings the entire damn thing down on their heads.

“Come now, brother.” Thor said, smiling jovially. It made Loki somewhat suspicious of his brother’s sudden inability to control the storm raging around them. “You have spent far too much time among books and soft furs. You have grown soft.”

It was a poorly delivered challenge. But a challenge nonetheless.

Loki did not expect to beat Thor in a wrestling match. Nor did he consider that their rolling around would succeed in that which wind still failed to do.

The roof remained, but all else inside the cabin was ruined when Thor finally pinned Loki to the floor, straddling his thighs and holding his wrists securely above his head. With only one hand, a fact which made Loki grit his teeth in helpless frustration.

His insufferable, smug brother seemed to read his mind. “Like I said, brother, the books have made you soft.” Thor said, grinning widely, but he now sported a rather large bruise on his left cheek and his breathing came out shallow and uneven. “You should have joined us on the training grounds more often. Maybe then this victory would have been more difficult to claim.”

Loki’s vision sparked red and he twisted violently, somehow managing to free his hands out of Thor’s hold and to roll them over. They kept rolling around, ungracefully, Loki clawing and kicking at Thor with desperation born out of years of anger and resentment. He never once thought of using magic, reduced to a snarling, angry beast intent on drawing blood.

When Thor finally managed to pin Loki down again, this time with the weight of his entire body and using both hands to hold Loki’s wrists immobile, there was a trail of blood trickling from the cut on his forehead, and the look in his clear blue eyes was a strange mixture of surprise, confusion and something hungry and raw. Something familiar.

“Loki.” Thor breathed – unsure and vulnerable and wrecked – and Loki felt each letter of his name as warm huff of air on his face. And he wanted to laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh. Or cry. Because, finally – _finally_ – he was not alone in this madness. Finally, Thor was conscious and willing, more than willing if the hardness pressing against Loki’s own was anything to go by, to follow him down into the abyss of their mutual desire.

“Thor.” Loki replied, breathless and smiling widely, even if there was a trail of wetness running from the corner of his eye.

Thor blinked slowly, a flicker of guilt and horror appearing in the blue of his eyes. His face contorted into a pained grimace, and Loki knew Thor will pull away. And then pretend nothing has happened.

Loki could not allow it to happen. He might never get another chance.

But he did not force a kiss upon Thor. Not this time. This time he needed Thor to do it by himself.

He smiled – softly, shyly, like he had not for a long, long time. “Will you kiss me if I ask you to?”

Thor shut his eyes, a pained sound escaping his lips. “ _Please_.” He whispered in a low, hoarse voice, pressing his brow against Loki’s.

Thor’s body was trembling against his, the grip on Loki’s wrist turning desperate. His brother was begging for mercy, but Loki had not even an ounce to offer. There was only hunger inside him; a need for too long left unsated. And Loki, Loki was not Thor. If he had to burn, he would not do so alone.

“Kiss me.” Loki said, and the sound that left Thor’s throat was an anguished, broken sob of defeat. “ _Please_ , brother.”

A violent tremor shook Thor’s body, and then he stilled completely. Loki smiled in triumph, but his triumph turned to panic when Thor rose to his knees, releasing Loki’s wrist. His face was set in a hard mask, his eyes almost feverishly bright, and, for one horrifying moment, Loki was sure he had lost Thor completely.

But then, Thor smiled – a sad, broken smile – and pulled Loki up, until Loki too was kneeling. Wrapping one hand around Loki’s waist and the other around the back of Loki’s neck, Thor brought their chests together.

Thor regarded Loki silently for one excruciatingly long moment – and Loki wanted to shut his eyes and not have to see the sadness marring his brother’s gaze – before placing a soft kiss on Loki’s forehead.

Loki wanted to kill him.

Loki growled and pushed at Thor’s chest, trying to wrench free out of Thor’s embrace, feeling humiliated and foolish and ready to claw Thor’s heart out with his bare hands.

Thor subdued him easily, his eyes clear of his earlier sadness. “I do love you, brother.” He said, earnest and easy and warm, and then he brought their mouths together.

***

Each kiss that Loki remembers – accidental, stolen or coaxed – was a gentle one.

Thor is not gentle with him anymore.

They are mostly naked; Loki with tattered remains of his shirt hanging from his shoulders, Thor only in his trousers, although they are pushed low on his hips, his cock jutting out. Thor has him pinned against the wall, his lips sucking bruises on Loki’s neck, two of his fingers deep inside Loki’s body, reducing Loki to a writhing tangle of need, clutching at Thor’s shoulders and biting on his lower lip to stop himself from whimpering.

They have done this already. Bloody and battered, in the middle of a wreckage of an abandoned warehouse, they have merely switched to this form of battle – kisses and bruising fingers on naked skin instead of blows and magic – and they did not stop since.

But there is nothing warm or gentle in Thor’s eyes when Loki fists his hands in his hair and forces Thor’s hand up and away from his neck. Thor growls low in warning, his fingers tightening where they are squeezing Loki’s hip, but the fingers of his other hand do not falter in the slightest in their sure, deliberate rhythm.

There is anger in Thor’s eyes; anger and bitterness, and unmasked hunger, but there is no warmth or tenderness. Loki made sure of that, slowly and surely, lie by lie, betrayal by betrayal.

But now – foolishly, pathetically – Loki finds himself yearning to see it again.

Releasing his hold on Thor’s shoulder, Loki places the pad of his thumb against Thor’s lower lip, caressing it gently. Thor’s eyes narrow in suspicion and his fingers still, but stay inside Loki’s body.

“What game are you playing now?” Thor demands, harshly, but Loki knows him well. He might have learned to lie better and not wear his heart for all the world to see. But he cannot hide himself from Loki.

Loki has ever known how to find his target. And Thor’s heart… well, it was always his favourite one.

“Will you kiss me if I ask you to?” Loki whispers, his thumb still brushing against Thor’s lips. “Please, brother.”

Thor’s body goes deathly still, his eyes widening. A moment passes, then another, then it happens; slowly, like a building crumbling upon itself, something shatters in the depths of Thor’s gaze, and Loki smiles.


End file.
